When the Bogeyman Comes Calling
by Disasteriffic Kaz
Summary: Sometimes the thing in your closet is real and out to get you. Directly after s2ep4 "CSPwDT" Hurt/sick!Sam Hurt/Protective!Dean Angst/comfort!Brothers
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** When the Bogeyman Comes Calling

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Takes place directly after s2ep4: 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things". Hurt/Sick!Sam Hurt!Dean Comfort/Angst/Protective!Brothers

**Author's note:** Just me exploring Sam and Dean's brotherly angst and love and hey! There's a Boogeyman! :D Also, for those interested, I wrote the poem. K. J. Logan is my pen name though I've yet to be published. Working on that.

_**Please Read and Review and let me know what you think and how I'm doing. Thank you!**_

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**CHAPTER 1**

"**_When the Bogeyman comes calling _**

_Keep your children near. _

_Lock your doors and windows tight _

_Don't let him smell your fear._

**_When the Bogeyman comes calling _**

_Say prayers in the dark _

_Salt the door and hang a shoe _

_Before he makes his mark._

**_When the Bogeyman comes calling _**

_Sleep not in your bed _

_For he is hungry, strong and fierce _

_and surely you'll be dead."_

_ -K. J. Logan_

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"Dad! You have to come!" Little seven year old Tommy dragged his sleepy and un-amused father by the hand, down the hall and to his room. His He-Man PJ's scuffing the floor he pulled and pulled even as Dad lagged behind, sleepy eyes refusing to open all the way.

"Tommy." His father yawned. "There's nothing in your closet. You know that. We've been over this."

"Is too!" Tommy insisted. He dodged behind his Dad and pushed him into his room, pointing at the offending door. It was covered in Transformers stickers, a Pittsburgh Steelers pennant tacked proudly to the top. His father sighed and opened the door.

"See?" He waved his hand magically into the closet, batting the winter coat and wrinkly tee shirts, setting them swinging. "Nothin' here. Come on little man." He picked up his son and put him back in his bed, tugging the blankets up over him.

"But Dad!" Tommy argued, still pointing.

"No buts. Now go to sleep." The father patted his son fondly on his head and turned off the light as he went gratefully back to his own bed.

"Is too in the closet." Tommy whined softly, sitting against his headboard, blanket clutched to his nose. He watched. There was a creak. Tommy's eyes widened. There was a scuff from the open closet door. Tommy began to pant in fear. There were two red eyes blinking out of the closet at him. Tommy threw his blanket over his head and prayed.

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Sam Winchester sat miserable in the passenger seat of the Impala, waiting for his brother Dean to emerge from the gas station. He held his arm, newly wrapped in a cast the day before and wondered how much longer he could go without taking the pain killers the Doctor had given him. They made him goofy and sleepy, two things that made his older brother want to screw with him. Well, normally it would but they had been anything but normal since Dad died. Dean putting his arm around him when they set his arm had been the most emotion he'd seen except for anger. Sam was almost grateful for Zombie Angela snapping his wrist, just for that.

Dean was hurting, they both were, but for Dean it was worse. He knew. The suspicion that their Dad had sold his soul to Hell to save Dean's life was tearing his big brother apart. His big brother who somehow, after all this time, all the monsters beaten and all the lives saved, still couldn't see his own worth.

Sam wiped damp eyes as Dean appeared and worked at putting a smile on his face. Dean hopped in the drivers seat and handed a coffee to Sam. "You find a job for us in there?" He nodded at the newspaper spread in Sam's lap.

Driven. That was Dean these days. Obsessed with the hunt as if throwing himself into it would drown out the sorrow and pain. Sam had no luck slowing him down and resigned himself to be along for the ride. He'd apologized yesterday and Sam held onto that though little had changed. It was a step in the right direction and with Dean, baby steps were all you got.

"Yeah, I think so." Sam tapped the page. "You'll like this. First, we have to go to Intercourse, Pennsylvania."

Dean's eyes went wide. "Wait. Wait." A slow grin spread beneath his green eyes. "What saint named a whole town after sex!"

Sam shook his head, smiling. "One track mind much, Dean? It's actually named after a conjunction of two important roads that used to connect in the center of town."

"My reason is so much cooler." Dean gunned the engine and shot out onto the road. "So what's the job?"

"Ok. So over the last couple years there's been some weird stuff happening in this renovated apartment building, Cross Keys Apartments. Little things like milk spoiling instantly, people getting sick more than they should, the odd dog or cat going lame for no reason."

"So far not interested." Dean commented.

"Let me finish?" Sam grumbled. "Last couple weeks six people have woken up suffering Hypothermia and last night a guy died." Sam paused. "Single Dad. His kid said he saw the Bogeyman kill his Dad."

"Dude!" Dean looked excited now. "We get to hunt an actual Bogeyman? HOT damn!"

Sam chuckled. "Thought that would get you." He folded the papers away. "They're called Boggarts by the way, not Bogeymen."

"It bothers me when you know that stuff without looking. Geek." Dean grinned. "How do we gank one?"

"Ah." Sam shrugged. "No idea. I'll have to do some digging. Thing is, they're usually a harmless nuisance from what little I've read."

"So what set this one off?" Dean wondered and pressed the gas, speeding toward a job and action and another chance to forget for a while.

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They found a motel only two blocks from Cross Keys Apartments. For the questionable side of town, it actually didn't look half bad.

"Let's drop our gear and go have a look around for Boogeymen." Dean said as he opened the room door.

"It's almost three in the morning, Dean." Sam argued. "Let's get some sleep and start fresh in a few hours."

"We can sleep when we're dead." Dean said firmly, anxious to be moving and hunting.

"Dean." Sam shut the door and dropped his duffel. He braced for another fight. "Burning yourself out isn't going to change anything."

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean growled. He knew where his little brother was going and didn't like it anymore now than he had the last thirty times.

"Dammit, Dean. You need sleep." Sam said, trying for reasonable. "I know you're hurting…"

"Sam." Dean warned but Sam carried on.

"But you're exhausted. So am I." Sam stepped closer to Dean, risking a bad tempered punch. "Never go half-assed and exhausted into a job."

"Don't you quote Dad at me!" Dean kicked the end of one of the beds and glared around at the blue walls, dark wood furniture and checkered carpet…anywhere but at the tormented hazel eyes trying to find his. "Fine." Dean ground out. "Job tomorrow." He stalked to the door and bumped Sam out of the way.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked, tired.

"For a drink, Sammy. Don't wait up." He slammed out of the room and Sam sighed.

"Awesome."

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Dean stood on the street below Cross Keys. Each time he thought to take that step and cross the street, Sam's voice and Dad's words stopped him. He'd struck out looking for somewhere to get drunk. The streets rolled up at two am in Intercourse. He knew he was being an ass…again. He scrubbed a hand over his face, disgusted with himself. He'd only just apologized to Sam for exactly this kind of hard-headed crap the day before and here he was all over again.

"Dammit." He turned away from the apartment building and headed back to the Motel, exhaustion in every bone. "I hate it when you're right, Sammy."

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Sam sat on his bed against the headboard, cast on his stomach and tried to distract himself from the pain and the fever that had started with research. What little he knew about Boggarts didn't extend to how to kill them. The warmth from the battery of his laptop on his thighs was not helping his fever.

He took the water bottle from the table and rolled it across his forehead. It was still cool enough to feel good and he sighed in relief. Sam had hoped he'd avoid the fever the Doctor warned him of. "Healing bones wreak all sorts of havoc the first few days." He'd been told. The prescription pain killers the Doc had given him were in his bag, on the floor at the foot of his bed. Tempting as they were, he just didn't have the energy to move that far.

Dean opened the door and Sam looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected his brother back until the sun was up and piss drunk to boot.

"Hey." Dean said as he shut the door and shrugged out of his jacket.

"Hey." Sam tossed back and made an effort not to stare, comment or push. He was back and sober and Sam would leave this gift horse alone.

Dean stood there for a moment, glanced at Sam and then went into the bathroom, closing the door. Sam smiled in relief. Coming from Dean, that short look was tantamount to a hug. He smirked. Dean's own brand of a chick flick moment.

Sam closed the laptop, set it aside wearily and toed off his shoes. Now that Dean was back he could sleep. He slid down and stifled a groan, readjusting his arm. Dean emerged and headed to his own bed.

"Night, Sam." He said tiredly and got a grunt in response. Poor kid was beat; Dean thought and turned out the lights.

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Dean snapped awake, his sense of 'something wrong' pulling him out of sleep.

"Sammy?" He asked and heard his brother moan. "Crap." He flicked the lights on and rolled out of bed. Sam was tossing restlessly, sheets wrapped around his legs. His shirt was stuck to his chest with sweat, hair matted to his face.

"Sammy?" Dean smoothed his hair away and cursed when he felt the heat pouring off of him. Sam was burning up with fever and he suddenly remembered the Doctor's warning for just this. The expression on Sam's face said he was in pain as well. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should have seen this earlier."

"Sorry." Sam whispered. Dean leaned over, trying to still his brothers movements. "I'm sorry, Dad." Sam said in such a lost, heartbroken voice Dean felt his own chest tighten.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean held Sam's shoulders while he shook in his fever dream, brushed a hand over his forehead. "Dad knows." He said softly.

He turned away and went to Sam's bag. He dug through it for aspirin and the pain killers then wet a rag in the bathroom and got a glass of water. He set them on the table between the beds and laid the ice cold cloth on Sam's forehead.

"Wake up, Sammy." Dean tapped his cheek. "Come on, buddy. Stop scaring me."

Sam's movements slowed, his breathing began to even out and his eyes fluttered open. They were fever bright and looked up at Dean with complete trust. In that moment Dean hated their Dad. Save Sam or kill him. What the hell kind of crap was that to put on his shoulders? Of course he would save him because there was no way he would ever, ever kill him.

"Dean." Sam mumbled. "Don't feel so good."

"Got news for ya. You don't look so good." Dean picked up Sam's good hand and dropped the pills in. "Take these." He ordered. Sam didn't argue and took the water shakily, washing them down.

"Thanks." Sam gulped the rest of the water and Dean rescued the glass as it slipped.

"Alright, that's enough for now, Sammy." Dean took the washcloth from his forehead and went back to the bathroom to re-wet it as it had already gone warm from touching Sam's skin.

"Dean?" Sam's weak voice had him back at the bed at a run.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm right here." Dean laid the cold cloth back again. Sam sick and in pain revived old instincts in Dean. He'd spent all of Sam's life taking care of him, raising him. Even now with all the misery in Dean's head, Sam took precedence. Caring for him slowly gave Dean some small measure of peace. If nothing else, he was glad to still be alive for this; for Sam. He just wondered if it would be enough.

Sam's eyes closed and his body relaxed inch by inch as the medication started to work. Dean untangled the blankets from his legs and pulled the sheet up to Sam's chest.

"That's it, Sam. Get some rest now." He propped Sam's cast on a spare pillow and settled next to him, hand on his shoulder, to keep watch until his fever broke.

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Sam came back to waking with a groan, wanting to stay where he was; asleep and not in pain. He blinked gritty eyes open and was happy to not feel as hot as he had when he fell asleep. He looked down and saw stockinged feet resting on his bed attached to legs that belonged to Dean. Tilted all the way back in a chair between the beds with his head resting on his own bed, he snored.

"Dean." Sam said and made a face. His mouth felt full of sand. "Yeck." Dean didn't stir, sound asleep. Sam smirked and sat up slowly. The pain in his arm was thankfully less today and he sighed in relief. He tossed the sheet off and pushed himself to the end of the bed around Dean's feet. Sam stood, swayed a moment and decided he could stay that way long enough to shower, shave and by god brush his sandy teeth.

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The shower was heaven. The toothpaste nirvana and Sam stepped out of the steamy bathroom feeling much more himself.

"Afternoon, Sasquatch." Dean greeting him, now awake. "You leave me any hot water?"

Sam smirked. "Maybe."

"Bitch." Dean smiled and then studied Sam's face. Deciding he liked what he saw, he nodded. "Let me grab a cold shower." He punched Sam's shoulder lightly on his way past. "And we'll go find food and then maybe a Bogeyman."

"Jerk." Sam laughed. Today was starting out much better than yesterday had ended.

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_to be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** When the Bogeyman Comes Calling

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Takes place directly after s2ep4: 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things". Hurt/Sick!Sam Hurt!Dean Comfort/Angst/Protective!Brothers

**Author's note:** Just me exploring Sam and Dean's brotherly angst and love and hey! There's a Boogeyman! :D

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**CHAPTER 2**

"What did this place used to be?" Dean asked as he parked the Impala in front of the apartment building.

"Steel mill." Sam replied and got out looking up…and up. "They renovated it back in the fifties. Twelve floors of apartments, gym in the basement and a Boggart. Bet that wasn't in the brochures." Sam pointed to the wider base of the building as Dean snorted a laugh. "They added that whole section on I think."

"What's going on here?" Dean wondered. Cops were stationed at the front entrance while tenants filed out with boxes and bags in tow. "Come on." Dean sauntered up to the Officers, at ease and pulled up short when they waved him off.

"Sorry Sir. This building is under quarantine. No one's allowed in." The cop said firmly.

"Quarantine?" Sam stepped up with his brother. "From what?"

"Asbestos I think." The Cop shrugged and turned away, done with them.

Dean turned around and waggled his eyebrows at Sam, heading back to the car. They got inside and Dean eased out into traffic. "Man I love it when the cops make our job easier." He grinned.

"Be a lot easier searching the building without the tenants around." Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Asbestos."

Dean turned them onto the main drag of the city. "So. Library? Research?"

Sam looked over at him, surprised. "Yeah. I'd like blueprints of the building for one thing."

"Don't look so shocked." Dean smirked. "Gonna take them a couple hours to clear the place out. Might as well do something constructive in the meantime, like figure out how we gank this thing."

Sam realized this was a peace offering for Dean's behavior the night before and smiled. "I did get some research done last night before I passed out. Boggart's usually latch on to a person or family and follow them when they move."

"Okay." Dean searched the street for the library where he thought it was supposed to be. "So we find out who moved in when the weird started happening and search their place. Gank the monster."

"I don't think so. There." Sam pointed and Dean turned quickly into the library parking lot. "The month this all started, everyone who moved in has already moved out since and the Boggart is still there."

"How's that work?"

"I dunno." Sam admitted. "I'm missing something."

"Let's find it then." Dean parked and they headed for the large, modern building that housed the Intercourse Library. Dean snickered as they passed the sign. He couldn't help it.

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"Balls." Sam groaned, using their adoptive father's favorite curse. Bobby would be proud, and sat back with a thump.

"What?" Dean jerked awake from the book he'd been dozing on and was shushed by the passing librarian.

"Can't believe I missed this. The Boggart didn't follow anyone to the building. It was already there." Sam shuffled through blueprints, sliding out the one he wanted. "They do usually follow a family but in traditional lore they lived under bridges." He put the blueprint in front of Dean who yawned and shrugged.

"What?"

Sam smirked and pointed. "The renovations. They added to the base of the building and covered it up. The old Mill sat across a creek…on a bridge." He waited for Dean's sleepy mind to catch up and smiled when his eyes widened.

"You mean it's still down there?" He asked, surprised.

"Yeah. It's part of the sewer system now. That's where we'll find the lair" Sam pulled a book over and held it up. "According to this, we'll need consecrated iron to kill the Boggart."

"Salt and Holy Water?" Dean asked, brows arched.

"They'll stop it or slow it down but only the iron will kill it." Sam sat back and stretched.

"I don't get why Oogie Boogie would start screwing with people now." Dean said, watching Sam wince and lower his cast.

"I think I do." Sam dug through the pile of books again and came up with a museum record. "When they cleared out the last of the steel mill stuff a few years ago, they put a lot of it in the town museum, including this." He showed Dean a picture. His brother frowned.

"A horseshoe?"

"It used to hang over the original entrance to the mill which is still the entrance to the building. Apparently it's the best way to keep a Boggart out." Sam tossed tossed the picture on the table. "They took it down and the Boggart was free to enter the apartments."

"Remind me to glue a horseshoe into the trunk later." Dean stood. "Time to whoop some ass, Sammy. Let's go."

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The early evening sun slanted down between the clouds dappling the Cross Keys building in light and shadow as Sam and Dean jogged down the alley to the service entrance. They'd seen the cop pacing alone at the front door and smirked. Obviously no one was taking the death seriously.

The bio-hazard seal slit under Dean's knife and Sam had the door open in moments. They slipped inside unseen…but by two red eyes in a window high above.

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Dean and Sam strode cautiously down the eerily silent hallway, lit only by emergency lights. The authorities had turned off main power with the building empty.

"Dude. If a kid on a big wheel comes around one of these corners, we are out of here." Dean said softly and Sam snorted a laugh.

"Service stair to the sub-basement should be on the other side of the building from here." Sam shone his mag light on the blueprint he held. "Should be able to find a way into the sewer from there."

"Awesome." Dean checked the clip on his pistol, freshly loaded with consecrated iron rounds. "I love sewers." Sam looked sideways at him, knowing how his brother felt about rats and smirked. Big bad hunter…unless a rat crawled up his pantleg.

The apartment door beside Sam swung open suddenly. "What the…" was all Sam could say before some unseen force pulled him in and tossed him bodily into the apartment.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted as the door slammed shut with a sharp crack of wood.

Sam skidded along the floor and rolled to a painful stop against a china cabinet. It shuddered with his impact, the doors swinging open and china rained down on him. He threw his arms over his head and looked up in time to see a dark figure, tall and gangly, standing over him. The smell was awful; sewage and rot and it made his nose burn. Thick, meaty arms reached up and Sam had only time to brace himself as the cabinet crashed down upon him.

He could still hear Dean screaming his name and ramming the apartment door, trying to get to him. The cabinet was incredibly heavy. The weight of it pressed him into the floor and down onto the broken china. "Dean!"

Dean's voice abruptly cut off and Sam heard several shots, a loud thump and then nothing. He heaved frantically at the cabinet, panicked for his brother. "DEAN!" Sam shouted. Fear gave him extra strength and he heaved the cabinet up and to his side.

"Dean! I'm coming!" Sam surged to his feet, found his gun on the floor and raced to the door. To his surprise it didn't resist and he threw it open. "Get off him you son of a bitch!" Dean was sprawled on the floor of the hall. The Boggart sat across his chest, gnarled hands on Dean's cheeks. Sam fired. He saw the Boggart flinch and then run with blinding speed out of sight.

"Dean!" Sam dropped beside his brother and felt his world slip out of focus. Dean was blue with cold. His skin, as Sam searched for a pulse, was frigid to his touch and he was deathly still. "Be there. Please be there." He whispered and panted out a breath when he felt the weak beat beneath his fingertips. "Hypothermia." Sam breathed and grabbed Dean, lifting him up and into a fireman's hold. He took him into the apartment the Boggart had dragged him into.

"Hang on, Dean." Sam gasped. He found the bathroom past the remains of the cabinet and lay his disturbingly still brother down on the tile floor. "Just hang on a little longer." Sam sprinted back to the hall and grabbed up the bag Dean had been carrying. He returned to the bathroom, kicked the door shut and dug the salt canister out of the duffel. Pouring a quick line of salt in front of the bathroom door before checking on Dean again.

He was still alive but so cold. Sam reached into the tub and got the water running, nodding when he felt it warm. Thankfully the water heaters in the building were still drawing power.

"Sorry about this man." Sam sat Dean up and stripped off his jacket and shirts. "You'll thank me for this later." He laid him back down and struggled to get his jeans and boots off. Now in his boxers, Dean began to shiver violently.

"Just hang on." Sam begged, panic squeezing his heart. He heaved Dean up the side of the tub and awkwardly got his muscled, six foot two frame folded into the too small tub. Dean gave a violent shake as the warm water climbed his body.

"Come on, Dean. Please. Wake up." Sam rubbed his arms, urging the circulation on. Deans hands and feet were no longer blue, warmed in the water. Color was slowly seeping up his body from the water now lapping at the edge. Sam reached across and turned it off. He spun to the door at the sound of claws scraping down the wood. He held Dean up with one arm across his chest and grabbed up his gun with the other.

_Tbc…_

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_Bear with me if this chapter seems a bit short. I learned today that my mothers cancer is aggressive and they've given her six months. Suffice to say, keeping my mind on one thing at a time is a bit tough right now but writing these has been helping me deal with the stress so don't worry. I'll keep writing. :D Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** When the Bogeyman Comes Calling

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Takes place directly after s2ep4: 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things". Hurt/Sick!Sam Hurt!Dean Comfort/Angst/Protective!Brothers

**Author's note:** Just me exploring Sam and Dean's brotherly angst and love and hey! There's a Boogeyman! :D

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**CHAPTER 3**

Sam trained the gun on the door as it rattled in its frame. A frustrated growl sounded from the other side and then silence. Sam heaved a relieved a breath and lowered the gun. The salt line had held.

Dean moaned softly beside him. "Dean?" Sam held his face in his hands, the blue beginning to fade and smiled. "That's it, Dean. Come back." He spoke firmly, feeling the fear start to fade finally as his brothers green eyes blinked open.

"Sa…Sammy?" Dean croaked in a very un-Dean like voice.

"Hey." Sam grinned. "Welcome back."

Dean fought the violent shivers that wracked him and tried to figure out how he could be freezing and warm at the same time. He registered the concern and shadow of fear in his brothers' eyes and knew something bad had happened…or almost happened.

"Dean?" Sam tapped his cheek lightly. "Are you with me?"

"Uh…yeah." Dean managed after a moment. "Sammy, wh-why am I in a t-tub?" He looked down, teeth chattering and his eyes widened. "And n-naked?"

Sam gave a short laugh. "You're not naked." He looked away a moment. "The Boggart had you Dean. It was stealing your warmth. God man, you were blue!"

Dean shoved himself up, the shivering starting to subside and looked around. "Where is it?"

"I don't know but the salt kept it out." Sam pointed at the door.

"Dude, what the hell happened to you?" Dean pointed a trembling hand at him.

"Damn Boggart dropped a china cabinet on me." Sam said and stood to look in the mirror. "Well hell." There were several shallow cuts in his face and fragments of dishware in his hair. He hadn't felt any of it in his need to get Dean safe. He ran a hand through his hair to dislodge them and hissed in pain. One of them was wedged into his scalp.

"Hang on. I'll get it." Dean said and tried to get up, failing and splashing back into the warm water.

Sam snorted and yanked it out himself. "Don't think so." He felt blood begin to trickle under his hair and shrugged. It would keep. "I'll get you out." Sam turned and took Dean under the arms and heaved him up. Dean swayed and had to grab on to Sam to stay standing.

"I am so far outside my comfort zone right now." Dean groaned as Sam chuckled. "Get me out of here. I want my clothes, my gun and that Golem son of a bitch in my sights."

Sam reached an arm out and dragged a fluffy brown towel off the rod on the wall. He draped it over Dean's back as he'd started to shiver again out of the water. "Ow!" Sam exclaimed at the sudden, sharp pain in his shoulder. Dean chuckled.

"Had another piece of Grandma's best china back here." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and then concentrated on lifting his resisting legs out of the water and to the floor while his little brother wrapped a towel round him and held on.

"What happened?" Sam asked finally. He helped Dean lower himself to sit on the toilet. "How'd it get the drop on you?"

"Dude that thing is fast like a freak!" Dean shook his head and batted Sam's hands away when he started drying one of his legs. "Cut it out. I can do it myself."

Sam shrugged and leaned against the wall and let the sight of his bother, alive, awake and irritated restore his damaged calm.

"Heard you yell." Dean continued, rubbing his legs vigorously with the towel, feeling the warmth return. "Then this smell hit me. I got a few rounds off but the thing went Aliens on me! Up the walls, across the ceiling and then…" He paused, staring off and shook his head. "Then I woke up naked in a tub with my little brother and we are so never telling anyone about THIS little gem." Dean dropped the towel and snagged his jeans from the floor, tugging them on over his feet and up to his knees. He stood to pull them up and staggered. Sam's long arm snaked out and steadied him.

"We should step back for a day." Sam said finally and saw Dean's face darken in protest. "Dude you can barely stand…"

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean said forcefully. "Gimme five and I'll be ready to go another ten rounds."

Sam sighed, sad to see angry Dean back again and he wondered if Dean would ever forgive their Dad for hurting him so profoundly. Would he? "Fine." Sam picked Dean's jacket up off the floor and the salt canister and started pouring some into the pockets.

"Sam what the hell?" Dean growled, watching his favorite leather being abused.

"It's the only thing I can think of." Sam handed Dean his jacket and began pouring salt in his own pockets as Dean pulled on his shirts and shrugged into his jacket. "It's not much but it might hold of the Boggart long enough for one of us to gank him."

"And if I wanna salt my fries later, I'm set." Dean grimaced. He stood again, steadier, and willed the remaining weakness out of his body. He didn't have time for it. "Let's rock and roll."

Sam silently shouldered the duffel and took hold of the doorknob. "You're gun's still out in the hall."

"Can't believe you left my gun out there." Dean grumbled. Sam waved his cast in front of Dean's face. "Yeah, yeah, you're a gimp I get it."

Sam swung the door open, relieved not to find the Boggart waiting for them. "Come on."

Dean followed him, hand on the wall for balance and scowled. "Your head's bleeding." The back of Sam's collar was seeping red as he watched.

"It's nothing." Sam led him out of the apartment, scanned the hall and took Dean's gun up from the floor, handing it back.

"Sam."

"Forget it. Let's get this done." Sam cut him off. Since Dean wouldn't leave, Sam would have to set aside worry and pain to protect him. He slipped into the mold his father and brother had shaped for him throughout his life. Dad was gone, Sam fought down the stab of pain from that thought, and that left him to take care of his big brother whether he wanted him to or not.

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A search of the sub-basement didn't take long. They simply followed the smell and the sound of running water to the large sewer grate hidden in a corner. The Boggart hadn't reappeared. Sam hoped it was below nursing a wound, he was sure he'd winged it in getting it off of Dean.

"Why can't the monsters ever camp out in the girl's locker room?" Dean groaned as he pulled the grate up and shined his light in the hole.

Sam tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and climbed down to the first rung. "Cause you'd have too much fun." He noted that for once, Dean didn't argue about not going first and smirked as he climbed down. Dean didn't want to face the rats alone.

Sam dropped the last few feet with a splash and quickly stepped up onto the ledge his light pointed out. "No rats, Dean." He called up and heard a relieved sigh. He flashed the light up and down the tunnel, eyes widening at several small piles of bones scattered about the walkway. "I think the Boggart has been living off the rats."

"Well, eww." Dean dropped into the tunnel beside him. "Which way?" Sam pointed with his light and this time Dean stepped ahead, taking the lead.

The tunnel was wet and smelly, drips of fetid water splatting on their heads from time to time. The water chugging along the floor of the tunnel was swirled with colors and carried bits of things they worked hard to ignore. The sewer took a downward turn and at the bottom it opened wide. The little stream turned into something approaching a wide, shallow creek. Sam shined his light up to the roof.

"Whoa." Above them was the floor of the original steel mill. Arced across the water ahead of them was a crumbling stone and steel bridge, looking as though it alone supported the hundreds of tons of building above them.

"You hear that?" Dean whispered and Sam nodded. Somewhere ahead of them came the sound of low growls. Dean tapped Sam's shoulder and motioned him to one side while he took the other, wading across the foul water with a grimace.

Dean eased up the bank, gun at the ready and shone his light under the aging span. Red eyes gleamed at him in the mag-lights beam. The Boggart was on the other side of the water and Dean cursed. Sam's light got closer but there was no way he could see what he was about to stumble on.

"Sam!" Dean called just as the Boggart sprang with a roar over the refuse pile behind it and out of sight. "SAM!" He heard a short cry from his brother and saw the beam from his flashlight wave wildly through the air. Dean splashed down into the water and fought against the current, listening to the sounds of a fight and begging no one in particular to get him there in time.

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Sam heard Dean yell his name a second before something slammed into him, knocking him backwards in a tumble. He cried out when he hit the ground and felt something sharp dig in to his hip. He pulled his flashlight around, having somehow held on to it, and shined it up into the Boggart's misshapen face coming down at him.

Sam threw his cast wrapped arm up and the Boggart fastened brown, rotting teeth into the plaster and worried it like a dog with a bone. Sam cried out again in pain and dropped his light. Instinctively, he dug into his pocket for the salt as the creature grabbed a fistful of his hair. Sam shoved a handful of salt into its face as it slammed his head sharply into the ground.

Distantly, Sam heard the Boggart scream in frustration and jerked as gunfire sounded very close to him. The weight was gone suddenly from his chest. His arm released, he rolled to his side as three more shots sounded above him this time. Sam looked up to see Dean standing over him and followed the beam of his flashlight a few feet away to the now still form of the Boggart. Dean stepped away and gave the carcass a kick before coming back.

"Sammy." Dean knelt by him, shining his light along Sam's body, anger rising at the blood on Sam's face, hip and chest. Sam's eyes were glassy and having trouble focusing. He had crested the rise in time to see the Boggart slam his little brothers head into the ground even as Sam gave it a face full of salt.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean put his gun away and lifted Sam's good arm, pulling him up. "It's ok. Come on, let's get you out of here." Dean got Sam to his feet, swaying and knees threatening to buckle. Inwardly he cursed himself for splitting up. He had been so sure he would find the Boggart and deal with it himself, it hadn't occurred to him Sam might find it first.

Sam limped beside him, hip screaming for attention, held up only by his brothers arm around his chest. "M'okay, Dean." He managed.

"No. You're not." Dean said shortly and all but pulled Sam up the slope back into the sewer tunnel. "I'm sorry, Sammy." He said softly.

Sam jerked slightly in surprise. "Wha' for?"

Dean got a more secure grip around his chest. "I should have listened to you. Should have stepped back." I almost lost you too, he added silently to himself but Sam seemed to hear it anyway.

"You didn't." Sam fought to put one foot in front of the other. "M'fine…mostly."

Dean gave a pained laugh and leaned Sam against the ladder up. "You first. I'll go up with you."

Sam only nodded, keeping his eyes open through sheer force of will alone.

"I've got you, little brother." Dean murmured, climbing behind him and making sure he didn't lose his grip. "I've got you."

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Sam lay on his side on the bed in their motel room and gritted his teeth while Dean stitched up the nasty gash in his left hip. Sam tried not to think about the plague he'd probably picked up from whatever he'd landed on.

"Almost done." Dean said and ruffled his hair impulsively. Sam felt tears sting his eyes at the old, fond gesture and buried his face in the pillow. Dean had flushed the wound with antiseptic multiple times after making Sam shower and he'd taken it all with barely a moan. Pride in the man he'd raised with his father gave way to guilt at getting him hurt and then anger at Dad for abandoning Sam and wasting his soul to save him.

"Dean, it'll be okay." Sam said softly from the depths of his pillow and Dean stared, then shook his head.

"Stay out of my head, Sammy." Dean said gruffly and placed a bandage over his neat stitches, taping it in place. "I don't wanna argue with you right now. Ok?" He saw Sam's dark head nod into the pillow and sighed, relieved.

He scooted off the bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking it to his brother. Sam cradled his broken arm to his chest. The cast sported teeth marks and Dean knew he had to be in pain from more than just his hip. He handed Sam the bottle and two of his painkillers.

"Don't argue. You'll sleep better." Dean ordered and Sam smirked.

"I wasn't going to." He swallowed the pills and awkwardly tried to pull the blanket up. "I hurt, man." Dean grabbed the blanket and pulled it up for him. He saw the gratitude in Sam's eyes, for more than just the blanket.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly. Dean turned away, rolled his eyes and recognized that tone as 'incoming chick-flick moment'

"What, Sammy?" Dean replied, tired and ready to be angry.

"There's a Three Stooges marathon on tonight." Sam smiled and propped his head up on the pillow.

Dean was glad he wasn't facing his brother just then. His eyes stung with tears he choked back because this time, this once, Sam wasn't going to push and talk and pick and be 'Sam'. This time he offered Dean a night of peace, to set everything aside and just be brothers.

"Sounds good, Sammy." Dean said at last, voice choked. He went to the TV and turned it on, grabbed the remote, went to the little fridge and took out a beer and finally felt sure enough to face Sam.

"No beer for you." Dean smiled and Sam groaned with feeling. Dean laid out on his own bed and found the right channel. As the opening credits of Animal Crackers rolled, despite the pain pills he'd just taken, Dean passed Sam his beer with a grin. "Don't give me your koodies."

"Girls have koodies, Dean."

"Like I said…"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

-The End-

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_I offer a special thank you to everyone who commented and to those who've offered their good wishes and prayers for my Mom. You help more than you know. Supernatural fans truly are the best of the best._

_Also, a special nod to "threedays" who caught my obscure reference to the Shining in Chapter 2. :P Heh. +10 Respect points._

_Now, what mischief can I cook up next for our boys?_


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